


Jennifer's Body AU

by nostalgic90s



Category: Gotham (TV), Jennifer's Body (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Brother/Brother Incest, Brutal Murder, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, High School Drama, Implied/Referenced Incest, Inappropriate Behavior, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Incubus Jeremiah, Jerome is a big bully, M/M, Personality Swap, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Unhealthy Relationships, relationship drama, satanic rituals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22626862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgic90s/pseuds/nostalgic90s
Summary: Pep rallies are the worst. Nobody wants to be there except the arrogant jocks and shallow cheerleaders, AKA the biggest attention whores at Devils Kettle High School.  Everybody else, meaning the non-athletic students, have to sit on hard bleachers that offer no back support. Elbow-to-elbow, knee-to-knee, no one wants to talk each other, let alone cheer on some assholes they don’t even know. It’s crowded, overheated, and lunch is another hour away; half of the student body is hungry and irritable. HANGRY with a capital H.
Relationships: Ecco/Jeremiah Valeska, Harleen Quinzel/Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely a self-indulgent piece I'm writing for myself. I'm sorry the name is shitty, I couldn't come up with a decent title. Anyway, this is based on the 2009 movie "Jennifer's Body" and I'm putting my own twist on it, using established characters from Gotham. If you've seen the movie, you'll recognize some of the dialogue and quotes. You don't need to be familiar with the movie to follow along with the story line. 
> 
> This is my attempt at writing something light and funny. I haven't had the motivation or inspiration to write in a very long time, but.... Here goes nothing.

Pep rallies are the worst. Nobody wants to be there except the arrogant jocks and shallow cheerleaders, AKA the biggest attention whores at Devils Kettle High School. Everybody else, meaning the non-athletic students, have to sit on hard bleachers that offer no back support. Elbow-to-elbow, knee-to-knee, no one wants to talk each other, let alone cheer on some assholes they don’t even know. It’s crowded, overheated, and lunch is another hour away; half of the student body is hungry and irritable. HANGRY with a capital H.

The whole atmosphere changes after Principal Bullock announces his disappointment in the lack of school spirit, and that he might as well send everybody back to their classrooms to work.

Suddenly, the gym rumbles to life.

The art students produce acrylic pants and they decorate their faces in purple, gold, and white.

One kid produces a banner from his backpack and his friends help him unravel the thing. It reads **Go Devils Go!**

The stoners lazily clap their hands, putting in minimal effort as usual.

Others raise their voices and cheer in mock interest.

Knowing its fake praise, the athletes and cheerleaders eat it up anyway.

The cheerleaders finish their dance routine and move to the side of the floor, making way for the line of basketball players sprinting out of the locker room.

On the opposite side of the gym, the high school band initiates the Notre Dame Victory March song while the mascot, a red devil dressed in purple basketball trunks, struts to the center of the floor. The person in costume is about 6’5” and has ZERO athletic ability. However, he knows how to work a crowd, offers nothing but pure entertainment during the games.

The general idea is to have this ridiculously tall devil play defense with each basketball player, sort of a quick one-on-one game. 

The first player, dawning 17 on his purple jersey, dribbles a ball towards the mascot.

Devil raises his hands and fakes a quick grab, forcing number 17 to take a sharp left. Tactlessly, the mascot shoves his foot out and trips 17, causing him to stumble and face plant onto the floor.

“GET OFF THE COURT!” somebody yells from the bleachers, resulting in a sequence of titters from surrounding students.

Embarrassed, number 17 rises to his feet and saunters away.

Number 10 doesn’t fare any better. He realizes the devil plays dirty. He attempts to charge forward and deliver a layup. It fails, ultimately, because the mascot uses his gangly arms to reach up and slap the ball mid-air.

The humiliating act sends the crowd into a frenzy. They boo, laugh, and pitch insults at number 10, who hangs his head and promptly shuffles off the court.

A flamboyant teenager strolls into view, causing the gym to fall silent – except for the band. He’s bearing the number 23 and he turns to his teammates, motioning for a ball. One of the team managers tosses the player a basketball.

Devil straightens up and points a red finger at the basketball player. He turns his wrist and gives the thumbs-down sign. 

23 simply grins because he can see the nervousness behind those cartoonish eyes. He starts dribbling in a lazy fashion and nonchalantly approaches the mascot.

‘Oh fuck,’ the devil thinks. He backpedals and crouches low, paying special attention to 23’s movements. 23 is a junior and he’s the best damn player on the team, hence the apprehension.

“Cody~” 23 taunts in a singsong voice. “Looks like ya put on some winter weight there bud.”

“Fuck you,” Cody hisses from behind the devil mask.

“Taking the breakup bad huh? Oh don’t worry, I’m sure Tiffany will come around~” 23 teases.

“Jerome, if you don’t shut the fuck up about Tiffany, I swear to God-”

Jerome stops at the 3-point line, tucks his elbows in, and throws the basketball.

Cody whips around and gawks.

The ball swishes through the hoop. All net.

“GO JEROMEEEEE!” screeches the head cheerleader. She turns to face the crowd and raises gold pom-poms above her head. “Let’s hear it for my boyfriend! Gimme a V!”

“V!” the students scream.

“Gimme an A!”

“A!”

Jerome basks in the applause and flattering cheer recital. He presses his fingers to his mouth and blows kisses to the audience. When emerald eyes meets his own, Jerome pauses and flashes a smirk. He winks and blows a kiss towards the highest row of bleachers.

Jeremiah makes it a point to visibly roll his eyes, despite the rush of heat in his face. He regrets looking at the gym floor and quickly turns his attention back to his drawing book. Why does Jerome do that? It’s stupid and downright weird.

_7-year-old Jerome shakes a finger and scolds his twin for not wanting to play his specified role in a friendly game of ‘House’._

_“Miah yer supposed to be the mom! I’m the dad, remember?”_

_“But I don’t want to be the mom. I’m the mom ALL the time Jay-” whines Jeremiah._

_“Fiiiine.” Jerome huffs and crosses his arms. “I’ll be the mom then, happy?”_

_Jeremiah nods and immediately gets into character. “I’m on my way to work.” He picks up a make-believe suitcase, which is actually an orange plastic lunchbox._

_“Okay honey, what do you want to eat after work?” Jerome has a real frying pan in his hand, filled with various rocks, twigs and leaves._

_“Mmm… Hamburgers! Oh, and steak, potatoes, corn dogs, popcorn, and mac n’ cheese. Can you make ramen noodles too?”_

_“Sheesh!” Jerome snaps his eyes and sighs dramatically. “I’m not genie and that’s a BIG wish list.”_

_Jeremiah giggles. “Sorry, you can make whatever you want.” He hoists his suitcase and pretends to tip his hat. “Have a good day sweetie.” He vacates the imaginary house and walks over to the sandbox where his office is located. He works for a newspaper company and has to type up some very important news articles, or else his boss will fire him._

_Jerome sets the frying pan down on the grass and turns around._

_Jeremiah makes a face when he steps into the sandbox; he despises the squishy dryness between his toes. Their mother, Lila, hates it when they bring sand and dirt into the house. If they play outside in the yard, then they must leave their shoes and socks inside._

_Out of nowhere, Jerome pushes his brother from behind._

_“Ah!” Jeremiah squeaks and crashes onto his left side, the piles of sand softening the blow._

_Jerome moves to sit on his brother’s chest. He abruptly grabs at Jeremiah’s crimson hair, giving it a hard yank. “You didn’t kiss me goodbye!”_

_“Ouch!” Jeremiah winces at the sharp pricks of pain. “Jay stop!” he pleads, “I’m sorry!”_

_“See? This is why yer a bad dad!” Jerome releases his brother’s hair and grabs him by his t-shirt. He leans down and delivers a sloppy wet kiss against unsuspecting lips._

_Jeremiah flushes crimson. He experiences a strange twist in his chest that makes a tiny bell go off in his head, something that tells him this is uncomfortable. That this shouldn’t be happening._

_Seconds later, Jerome pulls away and giggles at the sight of his brother’s shocked expression. “There, now you can go to work. Bring back eggs while yer at it, okay?”_

_“O-okay,” Jeremiah barely manages a nod. He adjusts his crooked his glasses and doesn’t say anything while Jerome climbs off._

_From that day forward, Jeremiah avoids playing ‘House’._

Jeremiah shudders at the memory. See, he’s lived with his brother’s lack of personal boundaries his entire life and it’s caused… Some issues. For example, he hates hugs. Jerome used to hug him into submission as children, until Jeremiah screamed his little lungs out, resulting in a lost voice. Sadly, it’s continued throughout their teenage years and now Jeremiah can’t stand hugs, even shying away from their mother’s embrace.

Actually, he hates touching in general. Jeremiah can’t stand anybody putting their filthy hands on him, Jerome included. There is ONE exception though. An angel, who goes by Ecco; it’s not her real name but she prefers it. She’s the same age as Jeremiah and they met at a local science fair during freshman year.

They’ve been dating ever since, and Jeremiah is almost certain he’s going to marry her. She’s considerate, patient, kind, and she doesn’t try to force physical intimacy. She understands and supports Jeremiah in a way his family never will. Recognizing their compatibility, Jeremiah believes they’ll make suitable partners in the future. It’s a shame she attends a separate school, he’d give anything to see her every day like how Jerome gets to see Harleen.

“Why don’t you play basketball?”

Jeremiah’s pencil stops moving, and he looks up at a curious pair of brown eyes. “Why don’t you?”

“Fair enough,” the guy laughs and shrugs. “You look like your brother, and I mean… A LOT.”

“We’re twins,” Jeremiah states flatly. Was there a point to his rude interruption?

“Same height. Same build. Figured you’d be a superstar like Jerome.”

Jeremiah snorts at the ridiculous notion. “Jerome? A superstar? Hardly!” He shakes his head in disappointment. “He’s already piqued.” He gestures to the gym floor and then to the adoring fans. “This is as good as it gets for my brother. If he’s lucky there’s community college in his future, more then likely he’ll end up at a minimum wage job for the rest of his life.”

“Ouch, harsh dude. Here I thought you guys were tight or something.”

“Excuse me, _who_ are you?” Jeremiah narrows his eyes, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.

“Darrel Lopez.”

Jeremiah furrows his eyebrows; the name doesn’t sound familiar.

Darrel’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You, me, Jerome, we been going to the same schools since 2nd grade! I take most of the same classes you do.”

“Oh.” Jeremiah wasn’t remotely interested. He closes his book, tucks it inside a gray backpack, and stands. “Nice to formally meet you Darrel, enjoy the rest of the pep rally.” He descends the bleachers and pushes past other students. He doesn’t need eyes in the back of his head to know his brother is watching.

* * *

The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough. Jeremiah is at his locker, grabbing the necessary books for this weekend’s homework. He’s distracted and doesn’t notice the flash of red on his right side.

Somebody yanks Jeremiah’s green beanie off his head, only to grab at his long hair before giving it a hard tug.

“OUCH!” Jeremiah hisses at the pain, automatically elbowing his attacker.

Jerome jumps back to avoid getting hit. “Haha!”

“Give it back!” demands Jeremiah. He extends his hand and glares at his identical twin. 

“Naa, think I’ll keep it.” Jerome slips the beanie on his own head. “How do I look?”

“Stupid.” Jeremiah tucks some hair behind his ear and huffs impatiently.

“Sticks and stones, Miah.” Jerome leans against the adjacent locker. “You and me are going out tonight.”

“Uh, tonight. Why?”

“Because Low Shoulder is playing at Melody Lane. They’re this indie rock band from the city. I saw their Facebook page and the lead singer’s _extra_ salty _._ ” He glances inside Jeremiah’s locker, rolling his eyes at the stack of books in his brother’s backpack. “Plus, there’ll be lots of other salty morsels there for you.”

Salty means attractive in Jerome’s vocabulary. All slang is moronic, in Jeremiah’s opinion and it’s a detrimental indicator of one’s IQ level.

“I can’t, I promised Ecco that I would hang out with her tonight.” Jeremiah reaches up, grips the beanie on Jerome’s head, and removes it promptly.

“The bible thumper from St. Ignatius?” Jerome scoffs and rolls his eyes distastefully. “She’s so boring! More boring then you, Miah.”

Jeremiah adjusts the beanie over his shoulder-length hair and shrugs. “They can’t all be Harleens’.”

“No, no they can’t.” Jerome hovers closer, wanting to irk Jeremiah by getting up in his personal space. “Ecco’s a nickname, right? Her real name is… Agatha? Hilda? No wait, it’s Olga.”

“It’s Edelmira!” snaps Jeremiah.

“Oh, right, right.” Jerome nudges his brother in the side. “How much you wanna bet she’s banging the headmaster?”

“Jay-”

“Come on Miah, think about it. St. Ignatius is expensive, and her family is dirt poor. She’s probably on her back right now, throwing out hail marys while the headmaster eats her tight, little pussy-”

“SHUT UP!”

Jerome grins at his flustered sibling; Jeremiah makes this unbelievably easy. “You’re getting sloppy seconds Miah. I’m sure they enjoy passing her around, oooh I bet the nuns are getting in on the action too! They probably throw one hell of an orgy party.”

Jeremiah feels sick to his stomach. He doesn’t like the images flooding his head. He’s already insecure as it is, and he’s got trust issues.

Nearly there. Jerome pushes just a tad more. “She ever ask about me? It’s been like a year since I saw her. She’s a plain Jane, but I bet that mouth can do amazing things-”

“What time is the show?” interrupts Jeremiah.

“8:30pm, be ready by 7:00pm.” Smug in his victory, Jerome slaps Jeremiah on the shoulder and heads off to the gym; he’s got basketball practice.

* * *

“You’re canceling? _Again_?”

Jeremiah sighs at the exasperation in Ecco’s voice. He adjusts the phone against his ear and glances up when the crosswalk light turns. He crosses the street. “I’m sorry Ecco, I’ll see you next Friday?”

“Why do you let Jerome boss you around? It’s not healthy, Jeremiah. You need to set boundaries.”

“We’ve been over this already,” Jeremiah groans. “You don’t have to _live_ with him. The guy is insufferable! It’s easier to let him get his way, trust me. I’d rather maintain the peace instead of fighting him.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

Too long of a pause. It makes Jeremiah’s heart race in panic. This is it, isn’t it? Ecco is going to break up with him. She’d be making the right decision. Jeremiah is a spineless coward who can’t even stand up to his brother. He’s got nothing to offer his girlfriend, who deserves the world and so much more.

“Next Friday I’m going home to spend the weekend at my parents…. Do you want to see a movie this Wednesday?”

“Yes!” Jeremiah agrees a little too fast. “We can do a movie. I’ll see if mother will allow me to use her car.”

“Wonderful. Can’t wait.” Ecco trails off for a moment to speak to one of her friends. Once done, she addresses Jeremiah. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Can I call you this evening?”

“Yes, but after 10:00pm. Sister Margaret finishes up her rounds by then.”

Jeremiah chuckles, “Okay. After 10:00pm it is. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The phone call ends, and Jeremiah can’t deny the butterflies in his stomach; he smiles all the way home.

* * *

It’s nearly 4:00pm by the time Jeremiah arrives home. The station wagon is missing, meaning Lila went on a booze run or she might’ve gone to work at the casino; probably the latter.

The Valeska family home is comprised of a 2-bedroom bungalow. It’s in the nicer part of Gotham, close to the schools and Gotham University.

Sharing a bedroom with his overzealous brother proved to be a nightmare for Jeremiah. That’s why he converted the basement to a bedroom when he was around 13-years-old. Sure, the water heater creaks and groans throughout the night and sometimes the washer and dryer bang around. It’s a small price to pay for some privacy.

“Hmm…” Jeremiah glances in the refrigerator but there’s literally no groceries inside. It’s any wonder Lila manages to scrape up enough money to pay bills; what little she has left goes towards whiskey funds. Jeremiah resorts to making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich using stale bread. He chomps away on the snack, opens the door at the end of the hallway, and proceeds down a flight of steps.

What he likes about the basement is that it’s always cold, which pays off in the summer when Gotham’s temperatures reach sweltering levels. It’s easy to warm up under a few thick blankets, but it’s tricky to cool down without an air conditioner.

Jeremiah tosses his backpack onto the twin-size mattress located in the corner. He takes a seat on a rolling chair and scoots up to his desk. He fires up the laptop and goes through his emails first. He’s waiting to hear back on an important scholarship opportunity, one that could whisk him away from Gotham and send him overseas for a full year.

There’s movement upstairs. The front door opens, and footsteps enter.

Recognizing his mother’s voice, Jeremiah impulsively reaches for his headphones. He doesn’t recognize the second voice, a male at that. Lila Valeska only brings men home for one reason: Sex. Jeremiah loves his mother dearly, but he suspects she’s prostituting herself to earn additional side money. She’s an attractive women and people don’t distinguish her as a parent when they first meet; she had Jerome and Jeremiah when she was a teenager. Their father, Paul Cicero, married his pregnant teen wife but their happiness was short lived. Constant fighting and accusations of cheating resulted in a messy divorce. Paul left Lila with everything- the house, the car, her sons, and he moved to another country afterwards. He, and Jerome, barely remember Paul, so they don’t feel particularly sad when their dad forgets to write a letter on their birthday, let alone call.

Lila giggles from upstairs and there’s a thud as they fall onto the couch.

Jeremiah shoves the headphones into his ears and blasts Dashboard Confessionals, drowning out his mother’s laughter and predictable moans.

* * *

“You’re wearing _that_?”

“Yes?”

“It’s a rock show, Miah. You look sloppy.” Jerome rolls his eyes. He’s wearing a black leather jacket with a green v-neck underneath. Denim skinny jeans cling to his form and he’s got on a pair of flashy DC high tops, covered in a red and black checkered pattern.

Jeremiah flushes at the insult and narrows his eyes. “Do you want me to go or not?”

“Yeah, but-” Jerome looks his brother up and down, “-you should ditch those dorky glasses.”

“No.” Jeremiah has his hair tied back in a ponytail and he swapped his contacts for glasses. The glasses are taped together, and Jeremiah did his best to color the tape with a black a sharpie; it’s still very noticeable. He would’ve purchased a new set years ago, but Jerome insists on breaking them, sometimes accidentally, like when they’re wrestling; sometimes intentionally, like when their arguing. Fortunately, Jerome doesn’t gripe about contacts and he’s left those alone.

“At LEAST change your clothes. Christ, weren’t you wearing those today?”

“Yes, and they’re fine.” Jeremiah had on a maroon, zip-up hoodie and a grey shirt underneath. His denim jeans are loose-fitting, and his shoes have some scuff marks here and there. He deliberately dresses down as to avoid drawing attention. Sloppy or not, he prefers to remain invisible, unlike Jerome, who strives to stand out.

“Whatever.” Jerome eyes his brother’s hairstyle like it’s an insect that needs to be squished. “When are you gonna let me cut that ugly mop off?”

‘Here we go again, it’s always about my hair’ Jeremiah thinks to himself. He keeps it long on purpose – to spite Jerome. It’s a silent act of resiliency, the one thing Jeremiah has complete and total control over.

“Never.” Jeremiah glances at the digital alarm clock on his desk. “We better leave right now if we’re going to catch the bus.”

“Bus?” Jerome repeats incredulously. He reaches into his jacket pocket and grabs something. He lifts his hand to reveal a blue poker chip with several keys attached to a miniature chain.

Jeremiah recognizes their mother’s key chain. “Stealing? Are you kidding me? We’re, like, two steps above white trash as it already is.”

Jerome cackles. “Well I’ll be damned… You DO have a sense of humor huh?” He twirls the keys around his index finger and begins climbing the basement steps. “Just a heads up, Lila and her new boy toy are passed out on the couch, butt-naked mind you. Reeks of piss and vodka upstairs.”

“Sounds lovely,” Jeremiah sighs and reluctantly follows.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so for those who don't follow me on my tumblr, I posted some reference images which I will now include down below, at the beginning of the story. 
> 
> First image is Jerome Valeska and how I imagine he'd cut his hair short - a buzz cut really, because he's lazy and doesn't want to fuss with his hair in the morning. ALSO, it's ideal for sports.
> 
> Second image is Jeremiah Valeska (Yes I know he looks older because it was taken from a later movie). Jeremiah keeps his hair long (to spite Jerome) and he dresses in a style that he likes to call "comfortable" but Jerome calls it sloppy. Jeremiah doesn't like to attract attention, so he downplays the colors and hides beneath a beanie and headphones. 
> 
> I'll include the link to Low Shoulder's song, "Through The Trees" in the chapter, right before the performance starts. Bold letters = singing.

(( Jerome Valeska on the left. This is his 'club' look and he's wearing the same green v-neck and black leather jacket. Jeremiah Valeska pictured on the right, sporting his more casual, and toned down 'club' look. He left his beanie at home and opted for a ponytail and glasses. ))

* * *

Jerome refers to Melody Lane as a club… It’s definitely _not_ a club. Clubs are for attractive, rich people. Clubs have D.J.’s and champagne. All they have, in the nearest vicinity, is a jukebox and a toilet covered in stickers. Neither of the Valeska twins have ever graced a club in their life; they lack money and fake ID’s. The only reason they’re allowed into a shady bar like Melody Lane is because Jerome fucked the owner a few times.

After paying a small entry fee and having some stranger mark an ‘X’ on their wrists, the twins enter the dirty building to mingle with the other patrons.

“I can’t wait until I’m old enough to get wasted,” Jerome comments, his gaze flickering to the bar.

“Yeah, me either” Jeremiah says sarcastically.

“Hey Jerome, looking good tonight~”

Both of the twins notice a scantily dressed girl dawning a Devil’s Kettle letterman jacket; clearly, it’s not hers. Beer in hand, she gives a coy smile while twisting a silver heart necklace between her fingers, deliberately above her exposed cleavage.

Jerome recognizes the ex-cheerleader; she was kicked off the squad because of poor grades, and the fact she was caught smoking marijuana on school grounds. “What up, Kristy?” He nods in her direction but doesn’t stop to chat. He walks right past her and Jeremiah follows close behind.

Kristy snaps her eyes and whispers, “Asshole.”

“She seems nice,” Jeremiah comments

“She isn’t. She’s a two-faced bitch, or at least that’s what Harleen said. Kristy thinks she’s cute enough for me but”- Jerome glances at his brother, “- _nobody_ is cuter then my girlfriend.”

Jeremiah snaps his eyes. Jerome and Harleen have been dating for 2 months, whereas Jeremiah and Ecco have been together for 2 years. Jerome is the type of guy to jump from one girlfriend to the next; he doesn’t know how to keep it in his pants. That’s why they’re here tonight, right? Jerome’s new obsession is with the lead singer of Low Shoulder and they’ll probably hook up after the show. It’ll pass soon though, Jerome’s infatuations always do. 

“Hey, that’s the band.” Jerome pushes past a group of individuals to get closer to the stage.

Unimpressed, Jeremiah joins his brother by his side and observes the different band members who appear to be setting their equipment up. The band is comprised of 4 women, all of which have varying hairstyles ranging from neon green, cherry red, blonde, and jet black. They’re either wearing black skinny jeans or leather skirts, with stylish shoes to match; all of their shirts are sleeveless and they expose their stomachs. The makeup, tattoos, and piercings are fascinating. Over all, they have this pleasing aesthetic look to them – an emo, punk rock band is the vibe they exude. His eye is drawn to the pretty blonde, who’s dawning cerise lipstick, purple eye-shadow, and red high tops.

“Mmm. You can totally tell they’re from the city.” Jerome bristles from excitement, like a kid who’s about to go crazy inside a candy store. He’s got his eye on the girl with long black hair; it’s choppy and uneven, falling past her shoulders and mid-way down her back. She’s dawning a fishnet top with only a black bra underneath, revealing several tattoos along her arms and chest. Out of all the band members, she’s the only one dressed in a full black ensemble; her purple mauve lipstick is the only splash of color.

“Let me guess, the sluttiest looking one with all the tattoos is the lead singer?” Jeremiah shoves his hands into his pocket, already tired, bored, and eager to go home.

“Yup!”

“Are you serious right now, Jay?” Jeremiah scoffs at his brother’s heart eyes.

While unwrapping a few cords, the lead singer glances up, having caught a few words from the two redheads near the edge of the stage.

Jerome perks up, flashing a smile when they make eye contact. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she responds, returning a friendly smile. “Be right back Bri.” She tosses the cords down, steps over them, and walks to the corner of the stage. She leans down and extends her hand in greeting.

“Uh,” Jerome can’t stop smiling; it’s one of those ridiculously big smiles, as though he’s meeting his idol for the very first time. “We just wanted to meet you, or something.” A nervous laugh filters somewhere in between his words. “I’m Jerome Valeska and this is my brother, Jeremiah.”

“Hello,” she offers a slight wave to Jeremiah. “I’m Nikolai.” She dismounts the stage and gestures to the other 3 women behind her. “This is, uh… These ladies are my band.”

“Low Shoulder, right?” Jerome moves closer. “Yeah, we’ve heard – I mean, I’ve heard about you. You play your instruments really… Super good.”

In the background Jeremiah is rolling his eyes so hard that he might break his own personal record tonight. Jerome sounds like a fucking idiot; he might as well whip his dick out now and ask Nikolai to autograph it.

Nikolai doesn’t seem to mind Jerome invading her personal space. “Thank you!” Her face lights up. “We are professionals.”

‘Professionals my ass’ Jeremiah thinks to himself. He’s never heard of their music, and they’re definitely not mainstream. God, he’s going to die of sheer embarrassment from Jerome’s behavior if he doesn’t intervene. “Hey. Sorry. Could I ask you a question?” He directs his attention to Nikolai. “Why would you want to play all the way out here? We’re almost outside city limits. You live in central Gotham, right?”

The question creates some confusion, making Nikolai nod and pause for a few seconds. “Yeah, but you know, I think it’s really important sometimes to try and connect with our fans… Even in the shitty parts of Gotham.”

“….” Jeremiah gives Nikolai a dubious look.

“That’s amazing~” Jerome says in a dreamy tone.

Nikolai does this thing where she smiles, bites her bottom lip, and looks down almost timidly.

Hook, line and sinker. Jerome is in love. “Can I, um, can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure!” Nikolai looks back up. “What are we having?”

“They have this really awesome 9/11 tribute shooter. It’s red, white and blue, but you have to drink it really fast or it turns brownish.”

“All right.” Nikolai giggles at the hurried explanation. Redhead was young, probably in high school. “Well, we’ll drink it fast.”

“Okay.” Jerome stares, that love-struck smile still present.

Nikola giggles again, an amused smile curling her lips. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” the redhead announces.

Jeremiah moves to step in front of his brother and grabs him by his arms. “Hey, how the hell are you going to get alcohol?”

Jerome smirks. “Um, I’ll ask the bartender if she wants to play Hello Titty.” He moves around his twin and adds, “Cuz ya know, she likes my Super Soaker~”

“Gross.” Jeremiah huffs irritably and glances at the band. He ambles over to the pinball machines to kill some time while Jerome fetches drinks. He inserts two quarters, lines his hips up with the machine, and initiates the first game by releasing the silver pinball.

Nikolai watches the 2 redheads separate. She turns around and nudges the drummer against her leg. “Bri, what about him?”

“Who, Steve Jobs?” Bridget quirks an eyebrow and gazes over to the arcade area.

“No, bitch. Fuck you.” Nikolai shakes her head. “I’m talking about the one who went to get me a drink. Mr. Prom King.” 

“I don’t know.” Bridget shrugs, “Are you sure?”

“Listen, I grew up in a town like this, okay? There’s always that _one guy_. He acts like he’s a player, thinks he’s better than everyone else, but deep down inside he’s a good little Catholic boy who doesn’t put out.”

Bridget frowns. “How can you tell the kid is Catholic?”

“My point is this guy is definitely a virgin, okay?” insists Nikolai. “I know guys like that. I’ve dated men like him before who are all about the slutty Goth chicks.”

“BUHAHAHA!”

Nikolai and Bridget turn their attention to the laughter, including some bar patrons.

Jeremiah couldn’t help it. The NERVE of some people. “Oh, my God. Haha!“ He struggles to speak and catch his breath at the same time. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but he happened to be close enough to overhear their ludicrous conversation. Jerome Valeska, a virgin? Fat fucking chance. If Low Shoulder was looking to pop somebody’s cherry tonight, then they had the wrong high school student on their radar.

“What’s so funny, kid?” Nikolai asks; there’s an edge to her tone.

“Nothing - pfft!” Jeremiah snorts and turns around, leaning against the pinball machine. He crosses his arms, a smug grin on his lips. “Do we _look_ like we practice Catholicism? Nearest church is 25 miles away, who has that kind of money to make a weekly trip, anyway?”

The band members exchange looks.

“I don’t know if it’s for sport, or some kind of weird initiation ritual you got going on, but you’re not going to find a virgin here. Especially not in some shitty bar on the edge of town-” Jeremiah abruptly cuts off when an elbow jabs him in the arm, hard enough to make him yelp.

“OUCH!” Jeremiah clutches his arm and glares at his sibling.

“Shut up, Miah.” Jerome hip-checks his brother aside and completely ignores how the other redhead staggers into the pinball machine, nearly knocking it over. He strolls up to the stage, carrying a wooden tray with 2 colorful shooters. “You’ll have to excuse my brother, he’s on the spectrum and he can’t help the shit that pours out of his mouth.”

“Autistic, huh?” Nikolai glances over Jerome’s shoulder. “That would explain why he’s dressed like a homeless millennial.”

Jerome snickers. “Right? Here you go babe~” He hands her a shooter.

“Fuck you Jay!” Jeremiah barks, his face flushing red at the false accusations; he is NOWHERE near the spectrum and he has the IQ to prove it.

Ignoring the upset redhead, Nikolai and Jerome clink their glasses together and down the shooters in a single gulp.

“Hurry it up Nik,” says the chick with neon green hair.

“Coming!” Nikolai passes Jerome the empty glass and she suddenly leans forward, stealing a quick peck against his cheekbone. “Meet me after the show?” she whispers.

Jerome’s heart flutters. He nods fervently and sets the tray down on a nearby table.

Nikolai winks at Jerome before climbing back on stage and picking up her lead electric guitar. She throws the strap over her left shoulder and hollers, “Good evening Melody Lane! How the hell are you tonight?”

“Shut the fuck up and play something already!” a disgruntled man shouts.

“Fuckin’-A!” Nikolai points to the overweight man in the back of the room. She turns her focus to Bridget and mutters, “We found our virgin after all, it’s the kid in the glasses and ponytail.”

Bridget nods knowingly. “Okay.”

Slow, soft rock begins to fill the room. More people gather around the stage, varying in ages and lifestyles – truckers, cowboys, business owners, high school and college students, and alcoholics alike.

Jerome is standing the closest, unable to take his green eyes off Nikolai. She was so charming, gorgeous, and mysterious; he wanted to ask her about the ceremonial tattoos on her chest.

Jeremiah begrudgingly joins his brother by his side and scowls towards the stage. Leave it to him to defend his brother, only for it backfire in his face. Well, that won’t happen again. If the sluts want Jerome, they can have him.

(( Excuse the intermission. Link to Low Shoulder's song, "[Through The Trees](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SViwukDQW5U)" is found right here. Please continue and enjoy.))

“ **All alone in an empty room. Nothing left but the memories of _whennn_ I had my best friend. And I don’t know how we ended up here. I don’t know, but it’s never been so _clearrr_.**” Nikolai strums the guitar, her body swaying to the melodic tune. She gives the impression of staring at Jerome only, but in truth, she’s got her eye on Jeremiah Valeska. “ **We made a mistake, dear. And I _seeee_. The broken glass in front of me. I _seeee_. Your shadow hanging over me. And your face, I can _seeee_ ~**”

Bridget goes crazy on the drums by introducing a loud and faster tempo.

The energy in the room shifts, becoming livelier and more energetic as the chorus drops.

“ **Through the treessss. I will find youuuu. I will heallllll. The ruins left inside youuuu. Cause I’m still here breathing now! I’m still here breathing now! I’m still here breathing now! Until I’m set free!** ” Nikolai’s voice drops. “ **Go quiet through the trees~** ”

Jeremiah cocks his head and examines his brother’s strange expression. Jerome appears to be hypnotized, with a dreamy dimwitted smile plastered on his face. It’s infuriating and Jeremiah grumbles incoherent insults under his breath.

“ **And I remember how we used to talk. About the places we would go when we grew _uppp_. And all that we were gonna find. And I remember watching our seeds grow. And how you cried when you saw the first leaf _showww_**.”

The music wasn’t AT ALL memorable. It sounded like a cliché rock band who wasn’t going anywhere because they sound like everybody else. Jeremiah isn’t enthralled. He’s about to go back to the pinball machine when he catches the scent of smoke. It’s a distinct smell, like burning plastic and wood.

Faulty wiring in the musician’s equipment creates sparks and those sparks latch themselves onto flammable panels lining the stage and walls. Like a hazardous snake, the orange-hot blaze crawls up the wall and slithers across wooden beams lining the ceiling.

A woman and man scream when the American Flag crash lands on their table, coiling and crackling in flames.

Glasses shatter as people jump out of their seats and make a dash for the door.

“EVERYBODY RUN!” the bartender screeches.

Nikolai stops singing and she smirks slightly, as though panic and chaos amuse her.

Jeremiah catches the disturbing expression on Nikolai and he’d be alarmed, if it wasn’t for the life-threatening situation unfolding around them. “Jay!?” He tries to get his brother's attention but Jerome is unresponsive.

The fire really takes off when it hits the bar. Open drinks catch fire. Somebody knocks a bottle of liquor over and an explosion of flames rapidly ensue. The bartender is desperately trying to extinguish the flames on her blouse, while another man’s jeans catch fire because of the drinks he spilled on himself.

The crowd is no better. They’re pushing, shoving, and fighting to get to the door. An unfortunate, elderly man stumbles and falls over onto his stomach. He begs and cries for help, but nobody listens, and they stampede across him, breaking every fragile bone in the process.

Literally everything inside the bar is highly combustible; courtesy of the owner who likes to skimp on safety precautions to save money. The walls are so old and dry that they catch fire instantly, blocking all the available exits.

“We can’t get through there!” a man yells at his wife, before jerking her away from the door.

People are throwing chairs and tables at the windows but the glass doesn’t break.

Smoke is filling the room at an unbelievable rate. People are rushing around blind, while others choke on smoke and try to find shelter under the tables.

Part of the ceiling breaks off and crushes multiple people.

Jerome is in shock. He doesn’t move or make any attempts to seek safety, that is, until he hears Jeremiah – his voice of reason.

“JAY!” Jeremiah clutches his brother by the wrist. “I know where to go!” He hauls Jerome away, having to sprint around burning furniture and people. The heat is BAD but the smoke is worse.

Whatever is going through Jerome’s head, it’s not enough to make him object. He goes with Jeremiah willingly, ears ringing from the bloodcurdling screams.

The twins make it to the men’s restroom and the 1st thing Jeremiah does is throw the dirty, stickered toilet seat down. He releases Jerome, climbs on top of the toilet, and pushes a small window open. He grips the window ledge, hoists himself up, and belly crawls through the tiny opening; he’s barely slim enough to fit through.

Jerome moves over to the toilet but he turns his head, eyes fixated on the flames.

“HELP ME!” a girl cries.

“AHHHHHH!!!!” a man screams his lungs out, like he’s in agony.

“JAY COME ON!” Jeremiah calls from outside.

“Y-yeah.” Jerome snaps out of it and steps up onto the toilet. He jumps and grabs onto the window ledge, pulling himself up with a grunt. He wiggles through, the edges of the window frame cutting into his torso and legs; he’s bulkier compared to his twin. He manages the tight fit anyway.

Jeremiah grasps Jerome by his jacket and assists him to his feet. 

A glass window shatters because a man threw himself through. He’s rolling on the ground now, screaming and writhing while flames eat away at his flesh.

Melody Lane is no more; the entire structure has caught on fire.

Jeremiah guides his brother away but Jerome soon collapses onto his hands and knees.

The gravel stings his palms but it doesn’t stop Jerome from shifting into a sitting position. He pulls his knees up to his chest and picks at his jeans.

“Hey?” Jeremiah crouches down and strokes his brother’s face. “Hey. Jay?”

Jerome stares unblinkingly at his shoes. He can hear screams in the background. God that’s all he can hear is THEIR screams.

It’s a good thing Jeremiah took basic CPR and read a few medical journals; it wasn’t required by the school but it helped pass the time whenever he was waiting for Jerome to finish practice. He recognizes the dissociative symptoms and categorizes it as acute stress disorder. He cups his brother’s face and tries to speak in a soothing manner. “Jay? Look at me. You’re safe now. Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?”

“Miah?” Jerome mumbles uncertainly.

Sighing in relief, Jeremiah is about to explain what happened until a woman interrupts.

“Oh, thank God you guys are all right.”

The Valeska twins hear advancing footsteps. Jeremiah stiffens and narrows his eyes on the raven.

Nikolai saunters closer, a drink in hand, and mock tears in her eyes. “What a horrible turn of events, wouldn’t you say?” She takes a gulp of whiskey. “Anyway, I’ve been looking everywhere for you 2.”

Jeremiah is about to tell her to fuck off until Melody Lane succumbs to a small explosion, sending a tornado of flames spiraling into the sky.

“Yikes.” Nikolai looks at the building. “Listen, it’s really dangerous out here.” She moves over to Jerome’s right side and kneels. “Hey cutie, you wanna head someplace safer, like my car?”

“What?” Jeremiah is taken aback by the suggestion.

“I’m in survival mode right now,” Nikolai says matter-of-factly, “and I want us to get to a familiar place. Right now I feel like that’s my car.” She leans against Jerome’s side and flashes a not-so-friendly smile.

“Okay,” Jerome nods.

Jeremiah adamantly shakes his head. “You are not going anywhere, Jay!”

“Okay,” Jerome repeats again, that same distant void in his eyes.

“This one’s in shock. Great.” Nikolai rolls her eyes and shoves her drink in Jerome’s hands. “Are you in shock? Have some of that.”

“No, don’t-” Jeremiah trails off as Jerome raises the glass to his lips and takes a drink.

Jerome coughs from the bitter taste; usually he has a chaser or something.

“Good boy~” Nikolai praises. She takes Jerome by his hand and stands up, forcing the kid to rise as well.

“Hey!” Panicked, Jeremiah clambers to his feet.

Nikolai hastily takes off walking, while maintaining a death grip on Jerome’s hand.

Jeremiah follows them. “We have to get out of here, Jay. Let’s go!”

“Mmm, sorry but my car is a 2-seater,” Nikolai glances at Jeremiah, “there’s no room for all 3 of us.” She intertwines her fingers with Jerome’s and giggles flirtatiously. “Besides, carrot top here promised to meet me after the show, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right babe.” Jerome squeezes her hand and pulls her closer.

Jeremiah is frantic. He raises his voice, an usual high-pitched sound that reflects how anxious he really is. “We have Lila’s station wagon. Let’s just get out of here! PLEASE?!”

Jerome unexpectedly whips around on his heels and snarls at his brother. “Miah, stop it! Just _shut up_!”

Dumbfounded, Jeremiah stops in his tracks. He watches the duo approach a red, [2009 Mazda](https://www.edmunds.com/mazda/mx-5-miata/2009/review/) MX-5 Miata; it’s one of those sporty looking cars, without a top cover.

“Wait for me, I’ll be right back” instructs Jerome. He hops into the passenger seat and buckles up.

“Oh, he might be waiting for a _long_ time.” Nikolai tosses the empty glass onto the gravel and slips behind the wheel. After closing the door and buckling up, she inserts a key and ignites the engine.

The car lays down rubber in a squealing departure, spluttering gravel and dirt behind it.

Jeremiah reaches up to dust dirt off his glasses and face. He remains stationary, eyes glued to the main road where a pair of red taillights fades into the darkness.

In retrospect, Jeremiah SHOULD’VE asked Jerome for the keys to the station wagon. Maybe... Maybe then, the catastrophe could’ve been prevented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue was really fun to write here.


	3. Chapter 3

The second those taillights fade around a bend in the road, Jeremiah experiences an ominous feeling. He just knew something awful was going to happen… Nikolai was skinny, twisted and evil, reminding Jeremiah of a petrified tree he once saw as a kid. The tree gave him nightmares for the better part of his childhood.

There’s an explosion from within Melody Lane, sending the flames higher into the sky as though Satan’s hand were trying to grab at the heavens. The screams die down as people literally succumb to their burning injuries. Wailing sirens are fast approaching, both firemen and cops speed down the winding roads. As horrible as the visual is, it’s the godawful scent of burning hair and flesh that makes Jeremiah queasy.

Not wanting to wait around for his sibling, let alone get hassled by the law enforcement for being underage and hanging out at a bar, not to mention the numerous deaths, the redhead simply takes off walking. Jeremiah hugs himself and wanders down the dark and gloomy road. The streetlights are no help; most are burnt out. He has his cellphone but no money, so calling for a taxi was out of the question.

It smells earthy outside, mixed with the scent of smoke and car exhaust. Jeremiah puts maybe half a mile between him and the bar before noticing how _cold_ it is outside. “Jesus Christ-” he said, attempting to pick up the pace in hopes it’ll warm him up. His thin jacket did little to break the frigid wind from sinking into his bones, causing his whole body to shiver as a result. He’s going to kill Jerome for ditching him for a piece of ass – and to be honest, Nikolai was nowhere near as pretty as Harleen Quinzel. The lead singer was twice their age and all of the heavy makeup added more years. What the hell did Jerome see in her? Hopefully, Harleen will find out and promptly break up -

Glowing headlights appear a few miles down the road, forcing Jeremiah to pause. He squints and underneath the dim streetlights he can make out an old van. Nervous, the teenager moves off to the side and continues walking. He dips his head low to try and obscure his face, in case the occupants in the van run into the cops and undergo questioning.

The van passes by and Jeremiah exhales a relieved sigh.

Till the van abruptly stops and begins reversing down the road.

Jeremiah turns around and watches the vehicle slowly approach.

* * *

_Darlin' darlin' darlin' I can't wait to see you~_

_Your picture ain't enough~_

_I can't wait to touch you,[in the flesh](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdc0v1mXkBw)~_

A soft, melodic voice floats through the park and surrounding trees, accompanied by guitars and drums. The radio is set to a popular station that plays alternative rock and punk.

There’s nobody at the park except for 1 vehicle, a red sports car, parked near the swings and public restroom.

Jerome is seated on the passenger side, while Nikolai straddles his lap and slowly rolls her hips into his groin. The two are engaged in a heated make-out session; it’s sloppy, wet, and hot all around. The redhead threw his hips up, not coy at all about his stone-hard erection.

The action elicits a scandalous groan from the raven-haired woman and she suddenly bit down on Jerome’s bottom lip, making him jolt in place.

“Ouch,” he mutters, running his tongue over the throbbing piece of flesh.

“Oops, sorry” Nikolai said through a giggle. She presses a light kiss against Jerome’s slightly puffy bottom lip before attacking his neck next. She mouthed along the skin, kissing and biting lightly.

“Not sure I believe ya doll,” Jerome purrs in a gravelly tone. He uses one hand to hike up Nikolai’s black leather skirt while the other slips underneath her panties; he discovers she’s wearing a lacey thong. Teenager wastes no time pushing two digits into her slick heat, earning an ecstatic gasp from the woman.

“Fuck,” she sighs into the crook of Jerome’s neck and begins rocking against his fingers, slowly fucking herself on them.

“Yer soaking wet,” he says in approval, as he matches her pace and pumps into her.

“Babe,” Nikolai raises her head to look down at Jerome, “-I’ve been wet for you since we met. I knew you were undressing me with your eyes while I was performing, and God it made me so horny for you.”

The admission forces a sharp intake of breath from Jerome. He shifts in his seat and leans up to kiss Nikolai, the trauma of tonight’s events is long forgotten by now. He withdraws his hand and unzips himself, tugging his boxer briefs down enough to free his aching member.

Nikolai moans into the kiss, already feeling the hot tip of Jerome’s cock rubbing at her clit. “Condom?”

“Shit, I didn’t bring any…” the teen confesses.

“Well, lucky for you-” the woman turns around and reaches for the glove department. No sooner did she open it her phone chimes. “Oh, hold on that might be Bri.”

Jerome lets out an obnoxious groan, “Who the fuck’s Bri?” He reaches around Nikolai to grope around the glove department, fingers brushing over miscellaneous objects; there’s a small book, along with a necklace and a knife. Yeah, Jerome would recognize a clip point anywhere because of the distinct handle shape. He figures it’s just some creepy goth shit and continues the search.

“My best friend and the only drummer in the band,” Nikolia responds as she reads over the text message.

“Found one.” Jerome retrieves the conceptive and rips the plastic off –

“Shit.” Nikolai proceeds to climb off Jerome’s lap and moves over to the driver’s side. She adjusts her thong and skirt before sitting down and starting the car. “I’m sorry, it’s really bad timing but I have to go check on Bridget, _right_ now. It’s an emergency.”

“…Are you fucking serious?” Jerome can’t help his discontent and he sure as hell doesn’t try to hide it. He furrows his eyebrows in disbelief, dick in hand and a condom still gripped in the other. “Can’t you like, put it off for half an hour? Tell her yer stuck in traffic or something.”

Nikolai’s mouth twitches into a strange smile. Her purple lipstick is smudged, and her hair is tousled, adding that extra edge. “Jerome?” she says innocently.

“Yeah?”

“Get the fuck out of my car.” There’s nothing sweet about her anymore.

In fact, the atmosphere changes around them. There’s tension and disgust radiating off Nikolai as she glowers at the teenager across from her.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” she hisses impatiently.

“…Whatever.” Jerome wasn’t in the mood to fight a crazy bitch who looks like she wants to stab him with the blade in her glove compartment. He discards the condom, tucks his dick away, zips up, and exits the car. He barely closes the door before the tires squeal on the pavement.

Fuming at being blue-balled and ditched, Jerome grabs an empty beer bottle on the grass and chucks it at Nikolai’s car. He misses by a fraction of an inch. The bottle lands near the front tire on the driver’s side, rupturing into a dozen pieces on impact.

Nikolai raises her left hand in the air and flips Jerome off as she speeds away.

“FUCKING BITCH!” Jerome throws up 2 middle fingers.

* * *

It took a couple of hours for Jerome Valeska to walk back to Melody Lane. When he arrives, the cops pull him aside to question him about the catastrophic events that took place earlier in the evening. The redhead lies and gestures to Lila’s station wagon, mentioning how his mother was too drunk to drive and had to call a friend to give her a ride home.

Jerome plays the perfect role of a caring and concerned son. His words are butter-smooth, his tongue coated in silver as he convinces the officers about his intentions of the late-night trek. He only wants to get his mother’s car home so she can make it work in the morning and the cops buy his excuse. They take his contact information and dismiss him afterwards.

It’s 4:39am when Jerome walks through the front door of his house. He slams it shut and pauses to listen.

Silence.

There’s no grunting or moaning upstairs. No T.V. in the living room and there’s certainly no music in the basement. Weird.

The redhead grabs a can of Mountain Dew from the fridge and saunters over to the basement door. He opens it and peers down into darkness. “Miah!”

No response.

“MIAH!” he shouts louder, “IF YA DON’T ANSWER ME I’M GONNA COME DOWN THERE AND HUG YOU!” That threat _always_ works however Jerome is only met with heavy stillness. “… Okay.” He sighs, closes the door, and makes his way down the hallway. He stops at his mother’s bedroom and glances through the small crack in her door; bed is empty, and her purse is gone.

“Great, she’s gonna miss work tomorrow.” Teenager shakes his head and inhales several big gulps of his soda. He went into his bedroom and plopped down on a beanie bag chair. He wiggles around to get comfortable and whips out his cell phone. He checks all of the text messages he sent to Jeremiah; it says they were sent but none of the messages have been read.

“Fuck.” Jerome felt something akin to guilt settling over him. He dials Jeremiah’s number and presses the phone to his ear; this has to be the hundredth time he’s called his twin. This time the phone doesn’t ring, instead it goes straight to voicemail. It means Jeremiah’s phone is either dead or he turned it off.

The voicemail beeps and Jerome spoke quickly. “Look, Miah I know yer pissed off and you have every right to be… I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have left you alone, not after what happened… It was pretty fucked up, right?” Jerome laughs anxiously, “Now stop fucking around and call me, or text me, just let me know where you are.”

Ending the phone call, Jerome chugs the remainder of his drink and tosses the empty can across the room. He’s debating whether or not he should go out and look for his brother.

Out of nowhere Jerome’s cell phone starts ringing.

Jerome never answered a phone call so fast in his life before. “Hello?!”

“Jerome? Baby, are you okay?”

It’s Harleen and Jerome slumps in his seat, evidently disappointed. “Yeah, I take it you heard about Melody Lane?”

“Yes, my father was the first one on the scene and…” Harleen’s voice waivers, “A lot of people died tonight Jerome, some of them students, the same ones that attend our school.”

“I know, I was there…” Jerome presses a hand over his face, unaware of the tremble in his breathing; he doesn’t want to think about the screams or the sound of crushing bones as people stampeded over one another. “Don’t tell yer dad I was there for the band, okay? I told the cops I had to go get Lila’s car, I don’t want them coming at me like I’m a some kinda suspect.” Harleen’s dad hates him, he wouldn’t put past the man to try and pin this one at him, if not for the murders then for the arson.

“I’m so sorry Jerome, I can’t imagine what you went through… Do you need me to come over?” Harleen is sincere in her offer, and the worried tone of her voice made Jerome’s heart twinge.

“No, it’s late and it’s a school night,” he cringes at his own lie. Jerome Valeska turning down a pretty girl because it’s a school night? A hurricane might as well sweep through Gotham at the crudity of his excuse.

“Okay,” Harleen sighs quietly, “I understand. Do you need a ride in the morn-”

**BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

Jerome leaps from his chair, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest. “What the fuck!?”

“Jerome what was that?!” Harleen said on the other line, having heard the loud noise.

“I… I think somebody’s here.” Jerome cautiously peers out of his bedroom, looking down the hallway towards the front door. He’s certain there’s an individual standing on the front porch, he can sort of make out an outline through the curtains.

“Should I call my dad? He can send someone over right away,” urges Harleen.

“No, it might be Jeremiah. I have the house key.”

“Jeremiah?” Now Harleen sounds bewildered.

“Yeah, I’ll explain later.” Jerome makes his way to the front door and disregards his girlfriend by hanging up on her. He doesn’t know if it’s Jeremiah on the other side of the door, or if it’s his crazy bitch of a mother; Lila has forgotten her house key on more than a few occasions. He hesitates but eventually unlocks the door and slides the dead bolt aside before opening the door. He reveals an empty, dark porch and he takes one step outside, glancing to and from each direction.

There’s no one outside.

‘Strange’ he thinks to himself. Jerome glances down as his cell phone chimes, Harleen sent him a text message. He doesn’t bother to read it and tucks the phone inside his pants pocket. He closes the door, slides the dead bolt back in place, and walks back to his bedroom.

As he passes the kitchen, Jerome catches sight of a shadow figure crossing his peripheral vision. Now, it’d be easy to dismiss it as a hallucination due to stress and exhaustion, but the floorboards creak in a distinct way, a way that can only be caused by somebody walking around in the kitchen. Jerome freezes on the spot and his heart rate spikes.

Thinking it’s a burglar, Jerome grabs a wooden baseball bat next to the bookshelf in the hallway. Ignoring the fear clutching at him, the teenager crosses the threshold from the living room to the kitchen.

Moonlight filters in through kitchen windows, providing enough illumination for Jerome to view the space around him. He does a full circle and finds no one. At this point he’s not sure if he’s relieved or paranoid; he could’ve sworn he saw someone, or something stroll across the kitchen floor.

“Christ yer fucking losing it.” Jerome walks over to the kitchen sink, sets the bat aside, and turns the cold water on. He leans down and splashes his face, the ice-cold liquid sparks his senses, making him feel more awake and alert. He shuts the water off, grabs a hand towel, and pats his face dry. He needs to find Jeremiah because he can’t go to sleep in good conscious knowing his twin is out there somewhere. 

Jerome places the hand towel down, turns around and ends up coming face-to-face with a monster.

A frightening scream emanates from within the Valeska home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, I haven't updated this fic since March and I apologize. I took a leave of absence from writing (and from life) to take care of my physical and mental health. I'm doing better now and I'm inspired to create again :3 Hope you enjoy the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it (I had to re-watch Jennifer's Body to get the scenes correct, well I threw in some of my own of course).


End file.
